


the little pieces of you that i find in me

by blifuys



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses, Haikyuu!!, Persona 5
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Drabbles, Flowers, Ice Skating, M/M, Original Mythology, Outdoor Sex, Rollerblades & Rollerskates, Snow Day
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2020-04-08 06:53:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19101961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blifuys/pseuds/blifuys
Summary: A little collection of drabbles I post to my twitter and things I write off the side.(Chapter titles will include the rating and pairings!)





	1. i. Snow Day | bokuaka, side krtsk, G

**Author's Note:**

> I do really want to have a little drabble collection, so I decided to start this work and update whenever I'm too busy to write any full length fics! 
> 
> As always, thanks for reading! Your support means everything to me~

The snow was beautiful. The flakes reminded Akaashi very much of rain, falling on the smooth tip of his nose, his cheeks and on his lashes.

It was calming. He loved the silence of winter, where he felt the most at home. His mother had told him the story of his birth many times, where he had been born in the flurry of a blizzard, where the snow had begun to slow down hours after he was welcomed into the world; into his mother’s arms.

“It was like I gave birth to a little snow elf,” she would softly coo, resting her cheek in her hand as she held onto a little photo of Akaashi, aged five and dressed in oversized winter clothes. Bokuto had once caught a glimpse of that photo, and he hadn’t stopped yelling about how Akaashi ‘looked like a little mochi ball!’.

So days like these, where the snow slowly showered on them steadily on a beautiful cold day, you would expect that he would feel right at home.

At least, that was until screams pierced the air, slicing through the calm and dragging him back down to the harsh reality.

“TSUKKI, TSUKKI SAVE ME—”

An idiot, an absolute pain in the ass. Here he was, his legs pulled so far to the sides as he struggled to pull himself back up to standing. The ice was slippery, and ice skating wasn’t the easiest for everybody, but this fucker had puffed out his chest and started bragging to Tsukishima about how he would ‘dominate the ice as Japan’s next Fresh Prince of Tokyo’, or something dumb like that.

They were in an open ice rink, a wide open space somewhere in Yokohama, meant to celebrate his birthday with one of his favourite hobbies. But this? This was babysitting.

“I thought you said you would, and I quote, _glide like a buttered knife on hot toast_?” Tsukishima snarked across the ice, arms curled around his middle as his body shook with laughter, watching Kuroo fumble over and over again as he attempted to get back to standing.

Of course, Kuroo was not happy _at all_ , and with every movement he made, he grabbed at air, trying to get a grip on Tsukishima's hand. The blonde simply pulled his arm away, in favour of watching his boyfriend fumble even more.

“Stop it, I’m about to split my dick into half, PULL ME UP!”

The shouting could be heard all the way from the other side of the rink, amidst the bundles of winter coats and warm hats and mittens skating across the ice. Akaashi felt a headache start behind his eyes, and he had to close them for a little bit.

“Akaashi! Akaashi! Hey, come hold hands with me!”

With such a strong, powerful call from the man in front of him, it was as if all his irritation had melted away like snow on a warm surface. Right. Even if his boyfriend was an absolutely man child sometimes and arguably just as annoying as Kuroo Tetsurou, he loved him with all his heart.

He loved him down to the very marrow of his bones.

His arms stretched out, welcoming him into the warm, buff chest, Bokuto’s pull was so natural to him, so inviting. He was wearing his favourite blue down jacket and a black shirt underneath, stretching nicely across his pecs, just like how Akaashi secretly loved it.

He’d go and kick Kuroo in the shin later with one of his skates. But for now? He would much rather spend his birthday in the arms of his idiot of a boyfriend.

Akaashi pushed out one foot, allowing his feet to float across the crystal surface, into the warm summer’s embrace.


	2. the moon represents my heart | kurotsukki, rated T

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tsukishima loves the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess some of you can already guess what this drabble's title is based off. 
> 
> [Here's](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gk3VQoAKMUI) the song I was inspired by!

There was something so special about the way the moon glowed tonight, the way it lit up his arms and his naked torso as the sounds of the outdoors surrounded him. He was always at peace, like this, the quiet assurance of the living beings around him promising him that he would never be alone.

The night was Tsukishima’s favourite.

No, it had nothing to do with the ‘moon’ in his name. Anyone who claimed it to be so was stupid, and would promptly be shot down with a glare and the sheer cold of silence.

No, the night was Tsukishima’s favourite because of how quiet it was, how it never judged him, how anything done under the protection of the dark could be easily forgotten the next day like it never happened.

Coincidentally, everything major that happened in Tsukishima’s life had occurred during the night. He was born where the moon was at its highest, glowing brightly amongst barely-seen clouds that tried to cover its brilliance to no avail.

His brother had left their family home in the deep of the night, never to be seen again after a shouting match between him and his father that had lasted for hours, concluding with a slam and loud threats to ‘never come back to my house again or you’ll get it from me’.

He himself had experienced that thrill rushing down his spine as he bolted down the quiet, empty street, uncaring about the potential dangers that lurked in every potential hiding spot—busy focusing on escaping from the tyrant that he was forced to acknowledge as his ‘father’. He had been 18, no longer a teenager, but his heart war-weary from everything he had tolerated up to that point.

That was something he could never forget, how the ugly dark bruises under his sleeves stained his pale skin for weeks on end until they finally cleared up, no longer painful to the touch.

Sure, one could say that everything that had happened was bad. Tsukishima was no masochist, and everything had surely been painful for him to remember, even long after he had passed 25 years of existence.

“Why do you like the night then?” He had been asked once by a friend, who had noticed his infatuation with the night, his tendency to stay up till one or two a.m. gazing wistfully at the moon, expression deep in thought.

“Well,” Tsukishima murmured, “The night has a lot of good memories too.”

And he truly wasn’t lying.

With his arm thrown over his waist, Kuroo lay beside him on the little cotton mat they had laid down on the grass, and he was fairly sure that his boyfriend would begin to whine about how his ass was getting cold any second now.

See, the night was never so bad. Sure, there were a lot of bad things he wished he didn’t have to go through, but he had to acknowledge that had they _not have happened at all_ , he would have never met the love of his love, the man that loved all of him, even if he was a bit of a bitter bastard at times.

“Tsuuuuuukki. Tsuuuuuuukki. Keeeeeei,” There it was, the soft, gravelly voice that _always_ managed to lure his heart in, over and over again as many times as it wished, “I’m so cold. I think my ass is getting a frostbite.”

“Don’t whine. _You_ were the one who thought outdoor sex in September was a good idea.” There was no bite to his words this time, and he had to admit that he was the one who agreed to it in the first place.

Even then, he wouldn’t outwardly say it. He wouldn’t give Kuroo the ammo he needed to start another round of bickering in the middle of this open field, probably littered with snakes and wolves waiting amongst tall blades of grass to eat them whole for supper.

“It’s been _weeks_ since we’ve done this!” Kuroo buried his cold face against the warmth of Tsukishima’s neck. It had been quite a while since they had finished, a good ten minutes of nothing but pants and sighs as the wind blew over them, caressing bare skin and clearly showing them _where_ the sticky spots were.

He liked sex with Kuroo. Sure, it was all good, but the sticky spot where his ass and his inner thighs were was _very far from pleasant._

As a couple, there were many sides to them that everyone witnessed on the daily. Insults thrown towards each other frequently, little pranks they played on each other that brought slightly inconvenient outcomes, and the bickering that no couple was safe from. But the one thing that Tsukishima savoured the most about them was how, out of nowhere, there would be little pockets of silence shared between them.

It was nice, and it would happen randomly. Secret glances over the tops of menus, quiet brushes of fingers as they walked along the street, it was things like these that burned a fire in Tsukishima’s heart.

Over the silence (save for the wind rushing through the field), Kuroo quietly began to speak, lips moving against the smooth, bruised skin of Tsukishima’s neck.

“The moon is beautiful tonight.”

Tsukishima knew that this idiot was probably trying to quote the thing in read in a novel the other day. Something about how it really meant _I love you_ and whatnot.

But under the clear expanse of the dark sky and a pearl shining down on them like this? He couldn’t help but agree.

See, bad things happened in the dark of the night, once upon a time. But Tsukishima loved the night, the first kiss he shared with Kuroo under a waxing moon, the first time Kuroo whispered ‘I love you, Tsukki,’ while the moon was at its roundest, glowing a soft, warm orange this time.

Tsukishima was a sentimental person, _sue him_.

His arms wrapped around Kuroo’s muscular body, his own pressed flush against him, fitting like a perfect puzzle piece as he whispered back to Kuroo, feeling sleep start to wash over the both of them in the post-sex glow.

“Yeah. It’s gorgeous."


	3. i wandered lonely as a cloud | daisuga, G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sugawara goes on an adventure, searching for the flower that'll solve his problems.

The legends say that if you come across a golden marigold, you will be blessed with eternal love.

Or at least, that was what Sugawara was told by an overzealous co-worker of his, one small ball of passion working the counter at the flower shop that he worked at, south of Sendai City.

Nishinoya had barged into their humble little shop one day, a book in hand (that was pretty new) and arms flailing over his head like a child that had gotten his first video game from his mother for Christmas.

“SUGA-SAN,” He screamed at the top of his lungs as he slammed himself into the silver-haired man’s side, already shoving the open book into his face as he tried to show him what was on the page, “LOOK, THE ANSWER TO YOUR PROBLEM!”

Thank God that it was late-morning. Usually, there was little to no traffic in their store in the hours leading up to lunchtime, everyone too busy with their own errands and jobs to visit this little store in the midst of one of Japan’s biggest cities. 

On normal circumstances, Sugawara would have been quite grateful for Nishinoya’s attempt at finding the solution to this supposed ‘problem’ he had, and this was no exception besides that fact that he couldn’t really _read_ what the solution was.

So, with a push and a shove, Nishinoya’s forced to step back, and Sugawara could finally glance over the words and the picture that was printed on the page he was holding out.

 _Golden Marigolds,_ the large bolded text read, _Said to give a person eternal good luck in love if found in the wild._

“Is this what you’ve been doing at the library lately?” Sugawara cocked an eyebrow, taking the worn book in his hands as his eyes scanned over the paragraph, taking in as much information as he could about the page that Nishinoya had so desperately wanted to see. “What’s this about?”

“WELL,” Nishinoya grinned brightly, looking much like a puppy that had brought a dead squirrel to its owner with affection, “I know that you’re lonely! And I know that you’re sad the thing with your last boyfriend didn’t work out! So I HAVE THE ANSWER TO ALL YOUR PROBLEMS!”

“Nishinoya.” Sugawara sighed in exasperation. While he was quite touched that he had a junior that cared so much about him, there really wasn’t anything that could be done about his current predicament. He was _32_ , not young but not old either. At some point, he had finally admitted to himself that not everyone was cut out for love in their lifetime, and he had given up on his quest to find _The One_ for him.

Truth is, there probably wasn’t _The One_ for him, and while it hurt to admit, there really wasn’t much he could do about it.

“Look, it says right here that if you find one in the wild, you’ll be able to get some good luck. They’re native to Mt. Izumigatake nearby!” Nishinoya pointed down to a specific spot in the book, quite insistent on the idea that had formed in his head, “If you try to find to find one and nothing happens, I _promise_ I’ll leave you alone!”

He knew Nishinoya cared a lot. His junior was the first one out of all of them to come to Sugawara’s rescue, helping him out of heartbreak with weeks and weeks of letting him cry on his shoulder, and going out for coffee runs when the older man turned up at work with eyes still sore from sobbing late into the night.

So that’s why he was here now, trudging up the trails of Mt. Izumigatake after being convinced by Nishinoya to _just take a day off and go find a flower!_ He made it sound so easy.

 _Well_ , he thought to himself while he listened to the rocks and leaves crunch under his footsteps as he made his ascend up the mountain, looking for a sign of a single golden bloom in the middle of the brown-green stretch of land, _Humoring him never hurt me._

It seemed like hours on end, time counting down with every step he took. Even if it sounded _ridiculous_ to him at the very beginning, there was something small inside of Sugawara that hoped he could find that bloom. Against all logic that he functioned on, that _something small_ kept him from turning back after the first two hours, pushing him forward in his quest to find it.

But of course he couldn’t find it. There was _no evidence_ that a ‘Golden Marigold’ existed, nothing to back up the mere _myth_ that such a small flower could bring someone eternal love that easily.

On the fourth hour he climbed, Sugawara began to turn back, making his way down the mountain.

 _Don’t be disappointed_ , he told himself while he pushed himself to walk back down to the entrance of the mountain, _it doesn’t exist anyway. It was a pretty nice walk, though._

\---

But on the third turn down the path towards the little creek where the water rushed downwards with the pull of gravity, he spotted it.

He almost didn’t, and had he not been looking down, he could have easily stepped on it and crushed it to bits, and he could have just gone home with his head hung in failure.

The way the bloom sparkled and shined under the sunlight was stunning, the way the rays caught on the petals, making the marigold seem to glow. It was like holding a little bit of magic between his fingers, where holding the stem alone gave him that rush of magic, the tingling in his fingertips.

As Sugawara glanced up, he saw them, the little blooms of marigolds sprouting up from the ground in a little row, leading him toward _somewhere_. Feeling the curiosity begin to consume him, the silver-haired florist began to follow the trail, plucking the magical stems as he walked.

But he was clumsy. Far too focused on collecting the flowers and tucking them away in his fist, he bumped into something, the force of the impact pushing him back a few steps with a loud _thump_.

His head stung a little where he had bumped, and his hand snapped up to press against the tender spot, trying to calm the stinging. But as his eyes glanced up to see what he had knocked himself against, he spotted _him._

He wasn’t much older than Sugawara, a stocky man with short, cropped hair that looked to be around the same age as him. But what caught him was his eyes, _the earthiness of those eyes_ that captured him with how strong and wilful they were, but so expressive in his concern for Sugawara’s wellbeing.

“Oh gosh, are you okay?” The man spoke, blessing Sugawara with that deep, thick-like-honey voice that washed over him like a warm shower on a cold day, “Sorry, I didn’t see you were there!”

“Um, yeah. I’m fine, just a little bump!” Suga replied, shooting up to straighten up his frame as he stood up straight, trying to assure the other man that no harm had been caused. In that moment, he had noticed that the man was barely taller than him by a couple of centimetres, and yet he seemed much bigger than him.

“Are you sure? I’m Sawamura, by the way!” Sawamura said as he fussed over the silver-haired man, ensuring that he didn’t sustain any injury whatsoever. But while he did so, Suga spotted _them_ , the golden stalks that this stranger held tightly held in his hand.

His heart warmed, and there was something curious that began to bubble up in his chest.

“I’m fine, I’m fine! I’m Sugawara. Nice to meet you.” Suga smiled and held out his hand. In that moment that the newly acquainted Sawamura took his hand, his suspicions seemed to confirm themselves in the form of a warmth that shot through his body, filling this veins and making itself known in every limb.

“Well, Sugawara, can I make it up to you with a coffee?” The man across him said with a grin, already ready to leave at moments’ notice with this new person that had caught his eye.

The florist made a mental note to thank Nishinoya later, in a text that would surely be celebrated in the form of gossip from the entire roster of florists in their shop. But for now? Coffee came first, and Sugawara was filled with hope and elation.

“Sure, let’s go.” He called out as he quickly moved his feet, already racing against Sawamura in a bid to see who made it to the café at the foot of the mountain first.


	4. iv. black tie | akiryu/pegoryu , G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryuji thinks about forever with Akira.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I've fallen into the Persona series, I'm dead.

“Could you sit still for just one moment?” Akira asks as he forces his hands down onto Ryuji’s shoulders, trying to get the restless man to _stop squirming_ , “We’re going to be late.”

“Dude, could you cool it with the hair gel? It’s _icky,_ ” Ryuji whines as his boyfriend forces him back into position, the two of them sitting in front of the large floor-length mirror that sits in front of their bed, and the way they looked almost makes Akira burst out laughing. _Almost._ “Couldn’t we have gone with a hairstyle that’s _less_ goofy or somethin’?”

“Look, I’m sorry, but Ann’s not going to be happy if we botch this one for her.” Akira says, sounding very _do-it-or-else_ as he pushes his gel-covered hand once more into his boyfriend’s blonde hair, trying his hardest to style it the way the pictures said it was supposed to look.

“You’re no fun.” Ryuji puffs out his cheeks as he crosses his arms indignantly, frowning as he watches Akira work his fingers into his hair through the mirror. He doesn’t fidget any more though, and he makes sure to sit as still as he could, so that he wouldn’t get told off by his boyfriend once more.

Even if he hated these stupid fancy-ass events, Ann’s wedding was important, and he couldn’t let anyone ruin this special day for one of his closest friends. Not even _himself_.

Besides, he got this chance to stare at Akira as much as he wanted. _His_ Akira, all dapper in his black, pressed suit with the silk-lined lapels that he had specially got fitted for. _His_ Akira, who looked fine as all hell as he sat on his knees behind Ryuji, those gorgeous rounded eyes focused fully on fixing Ryuji’s hair to be occasion-appropriate.

 _His_ Akira, who had long given up on his own hair, letting his soft, bouncy curls lay at ease—looking as adorable as ever.

He had no complaints, really, watching him be like this. Even if his own suit was scratchy as shit and would _probably_ rip at the seams if he got too wild on the dancefloor later on. There was nothing holding him back from his sweet, hot moves!

“You think we’ll look this good when _we_ get married, Aki-chan?” Ryuji asks, breaking the silence and getting rewarded with that adorable blush that spreads across Akira’s face in the mirror. He can’t help but feel his heart pound fast in his chest. This was somewhat of an indirect proposal, really, but he really just wanted to see Akira’s flustered expression—one of his favourites out of all of Akira’s faces that he had stored away carefully in his memory.

He smiles when Akira pauses, and he can feel those hands freeze in his hair mid-stroke, soft to the touch and careful as always—just like how he knew Akira was.

“I…” Akira begins to speak, and he glances away in embarrassment, knowing that Ryuji can see his face fully in the mirror, “Not really. I think you look handsome all the time. But you’ll be the best one out of all on us on our wedding day.”

Ignoring the gel in his hair and Akira’s hands, Ryuji turns around and pushes Akira into one of his tight bear hugs, kissing the air out of his boyfriend as their lips locked for the umpteenth time that day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ann is marrying Shiho here. We love pro-wlw boyfriends.


	5. v. lemons and strawberries | kurotsukki, G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tsukishima tastes kuroo's new menu item.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> recently i've been talking about this au with some twitter mutuals and this au made me uwu so hard, especially after the pegoryu cafe au i wrote.
> 
> let me know if you want to see more of this au!

"This is a little watery," Tsukishima mumbles over the cookie in his mouth, his gorgeous dark-gold eyes fluttering shut as he savours the tangy lemon cream in his mouth, "But the cookie's good."  
  
His cafe is peacefully silent at this time in the evening, half an hour to closing and nothing but the special playlist he picks on Friday nights filling the air between them. He doesn't know who's crooning the notes, but he does know that Tsukishima is a big fan of her songs, so he's happy to keep it playing until closing.  
  
"Would it better if I added less milk?" Kuroo asks as he leans over the black counter sperating the both of them, watching his boyfriend pick the cookies up - one by one - and move to take bites out of the treats he had made especially for him.  
  
Had it been Bokuto, the plate would have nothing but crumbs in approximately negative two seconds.  
  
He's especially appreciative of how elegant Tsukishima looks when he's eating - well, doing anything really. He loves savouring the little expressions Tsukki doesn't even notice making when they're like this. When they're sitting in the relaxing quiet, no one in the cafe but them, and they could finally relax their tense shoulders and wind down from the lively city life.  
  
"Yeah, the cream would taste better when it's thicker," Tsukishima confirms, a few crumbs scattered around the corner of his lips like little stars in the sky. "Hm. Maybe you should add a dash of powered sugar on the cookie too..."  
  
Kuroo feels a chuckle bubble in his chest before it leaves his lips, and he feels endeared, warm even. There was no one who could make him feel this happy, no one who makes Kuroo feel like he was soaring through the air while he stands in his humble little cafe out in the city. No one walking by the large windows could understand how much these moments meant to him, but they didn't need to know.  
  
"Alright, baby," Kuroo reaches a hand out and swipes off the crumbs with his thumb, before he licks them off, tasting the sweet bits that Tsukishima had missed out. "I'll make them taste even better next time."  
  
Tsukishima doesn't reply. He never does, but the secret smile on his lips is enough to tell Kuroo that he's satisfied and content. He picks up another cookie and leaves a small bite in the smooth, crescent moon-shaped treat, before holding it out for Kuroo to take a bite.  
  
Yeah. No one needed to know but them.


	6. vi. lucky strike | claudimi, G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He feels like a baby deer learning how to walk, only he already knows how to walk. He’s a baby deer with legs too long for what’s good, his feet trapped in shoes with wheels attached to them. He wonders how much he loves Claude for him to agree to not be planted safely and securely on the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> recently i've gotten myself into fe3h, and while claude and dimitri don't canonically have supports, i still like to pretend i can't read anyway and do whatever the hell i wanna do. 
> 
> that being said: modern!claudimi. they're both uni students in this au!

“Are you very certain about this, Claude,” Dimitri is hesitant, unsure even, and it’s been quite a while since he’s felt this way, “I do not—woah. I do not think this is safe!”

“Just relax! Slacken your legs, babe, I promise you won’t fall!”

Easy for Claude to say.

He feels like a baby deer learning how to walk, only he _already knows_ how to walk. He’s a baby deer with legs too long for what’s good, his feet trapped in shoes with _wheels_ attached to them. He wonders how much he loves Claude for him to agree to _not_ be planted safely and securely on the ground.

Ah. That’s easy. He loves him way too much.

“Baby, _baby_ , Dimitri, look at me,” Claude reaches out his hands, warm and ever-so-strong, grabbing onto his boyfriend’s hands like a safety clasp, secure and clearly not going to let go anytime soon, Dimitri hoped, “You’re doing great. You gotta chill a bit, you know?”

This wasn’t how Dimitri hoped to spend his Friday afternoon, finally done with finals after three hellish weeks of memorising _political science_ theories. It’s easy to study with Claude on the off chance that El’s busy doing something else, seeing how his perfect, _intelligent, kind, handsome_ boyfriend could supply him with missing bits of information he’d missed in lecture.

And he didn’t know how on Earth the man managed to do it. He doesn’t even _major_ in political science, so to sit down in front of Claude von Riegan and have him pull out a document with everything one needs to know on Illiberal Democracy is unnerving to say the very least.

Not that it makes him love him any lesser, no.

And that’s how Dimitri ends up at the derby rink, slipping and sliding like a fresh-born horse on an ice rink covered in butter. He’s promised Claude that he’d go out with him _anywhere_ after finals, and Dimitri clearly did not account for the fact that _anywhere_ really meant that—anywhere. He’s known Claude to be a man of multiple talents from the very beginning, but seeing him glide across the polished wooden floor effortlessly is enough to remind him that his boyfriend is _perfect_.

“I—I’m not used to it, sorry. I must be quite a sight,” Dimitri laughs, realising how strange he must look. Such a tall man, weakened by _wheels_. “You’re quite the pro yourself.”

“You’re joking, babe,” Claude bursts into laughter while he squeezes his hands, and once he’s reduced to hearty chuckles, he pulls Dimitri back up to proper standing, his head barely reaching Dimitri’s nose once more, “I’ve skated since I was a kid! I assure you, I was worse off. In fact, I remember this one time I stood up after putting on my skates, and I forgot I was on a slope, so I shot off like a roller coaster! I didn’t even know how to break!”

“That sounds quite like you, yes.”

“You wound me, Dima.”

Claude takes both of Dimitri’s hands now, and he pulls his boyfriend forward. Dimitri easily rolls into his arms, and Claude has them secured around his waist while his lips find themselves against Dimitri’s chin. His gorgeous emerald-green eyes are sparkling like they always do, when Claude has mischief in mind. It’s the cattish smile he has when he’s thinking of a new prank, or when he’s teasing Dimitri, or simply writing an essay. _It’s weird_ , Dimitri thinks, _but it’s incredibly cute._

“Listen, babe. Don’t worry about falling, m’kay?” Claude coos in the way that makes Dimitri think of home, of soft cotton sheets and half-finished chess games with the pieces strewn across the table amongst soda cans and snacks, of early winter mornings with a warm body pressed up against him.

“Too late.” Dimitri finds himself saying, and the way his heart seizes in his chest in response to Claude’s laughter reminds him just how lucky he is—how utterly _blessed_ he is to have such a wonder of a man by his side.

**Author's Note:**

> [come say hi!](https://twitter.com/nekohmy)


End file.
